


smudges on your ribs

by Timballisto



Series: clarke and lexa vs the world [22]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Not really nsfw, also fluff?, just a lot of pretty prose and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timballisto/pseuds/Timballisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa doesn't realize the marks she leaves and the comfort they bring</p>
            </blockquote>





	smudges on your ribs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this is the original prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/100718) by nightshifted. 



> this work is a continuation of an already written prompt fill. follow the link and read that first.

But sometimes, no one points it out. There are secret smears, charcoal bruises of Lexa’s mouth on her skin, of her cheek on her hip. The insides of her clothes are speckled with the color of ash, and how fitting is it when Lexa makes her feel like banked fire, slow burning and steady?

Or when Lexa presses her down to their bed, her mouth insistent and far too focused on mapping the inside of Clarke’s thighs with her lips to care about the paint smudging streaks between their skin.

It reminds her of the pictures she used to scribble on the floor of her cell, yearning for the ground. Lexa makes her body feel like a canvas, unfolding her like something she cannot wait to besmirch. The earth grasping at the heavens with reverent fingers.

But Clarke is not a beautiful, pure thing and life is not a song; she is creased and worn, used and ground down by the danger of life on the surface. It’s easy to forget the vulnerability of the future when Lexa’s licking into her, her thighs and hips purpled from teeth and paint alike, holding her down and devouring her whole until her hips cant off of the bed and her voice breaks.

"I like the marks you leave." Clarke mumbled into the soft skin of Lexa’s throat, later, when the weak guttering light of the lanterns are shuttered and everything is cast in intimate half light. "It’s like proof you exist."

"I am right here." Lexa said, huffing into Clarke’s hair.

"I just like the reminder."

"Is it Sky People custom to speak nonsense in bed?" Lexa asked, her amusement rumbling low and deep in her chest beneath Clarke’s cheek.

"Yes, actually." Clarke sighed, smiling contently. "It’s called ‘pillow talk’."

"I am still confused as to why you think I will disappear."

Clarke shrugged.”Things are going so well, it’s almost time for another crises.”

"And you… are happy when I forget to wash my face before bed?" Lexa asked, perplexed. 

"I like the reminders." Clarke admitted. "I can point to each mark and say, ‘This is where Lexa kissed me awake this morning’, she is real, and alive and-" Clarke swallowed. "It’s like carrying you around with me everyday."

Clarke heard Lexa’s breath catch in her throat, and the almost imperceptible stiffening of her body beneath Clarke’s.

She cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was rough with emotion.

"If I must wear war paint to bed to keep you happy, it is you, not I, who will be scrubbing the stains from the blankets.” Lexa said gruffly, throwing her arm over Clarke and pulling her tighter to her side. “Sleep.”

"That’s not what I mean, and you know it." Clarke laughed, relieved and happy, but she allowed warmth and the soft ache of her body to lull her to sleep anyways.


End file.
